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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25272106">With a Little Help</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetincture/pseuds/lovetincture'>lovetincture</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Episode: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Gen, Platonic Cuddling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:29:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25272106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetincture/pseuds/lovetincture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I feel like all I can do is be totally honest as Sam Winchester, and he’s not a funny guy,” Padalecki says. “The way I treat the death, like ‘Mystery Spot,’ which was a kind of comedic episode, was miserable for me. I was crying day in and day out. I mean it. This is not hyperbole. That was a miserable, miserable, miserable week in my life.”</p><p>-Jared Padalecki, in an Entertainment Weekly interview</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jensen Ackles &amp; Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>With a Little Help</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Fully did not expect my 100th fic on this site to be a J2 fic, of all things, mostly because in the words of Bees, "I don't go here." But I read that <a href="https://ew.com/article/2016/09/22/supernatural-jared-padalecki-mystery-spot/">interview</a>, and thought <i>someone needs to do something!</i> and in the spirit of fic, clearly that person was me.</p><p>This fic was sitting finished in my Documents folder for ages, gathering dust. I don't usually have trouble finding my courage for long enough to post fics, but for some reason, this one was the exception. In the spirit of... well, basically of not wanting to be a coward and not wanting to get into the habit of letting finished fics gather dust, here is this one.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” Jared leans in the open door, not quite committed enough to opening it all the way. He’s still not quite feeling himself. “What’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen hoists a six pack. “Brought you something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jared leans his head against the door frame. “Yeah? What is that, a bribe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen shrugs. “Kinda? You gonna let me in or what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or what,” Jared says, but he swings the door open anyway, stepping back to let Jensen in the house. He’s in sweatpants and a faded black t-shirt, all of it smelling of sleep and sweat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sleeping?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jared lies, making his way to the living room and flopping down on the comfortably worn couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the kitchen, he hears the fridge door open and close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen’s voice floats in from around the corner. “Uh-huh. Dude, it’s like five o’clock in the afternoon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs. “I was tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen hands him a beer, already uncapped, and Jared takes it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you been sleeping since you got back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another shrug. “Guess so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen taps at his calves where they’re taking up half the couch. Jared grumbles but swings them back down to the floor, levering himself unhappily upright. He leans against the far edge of the couch, elbow propped against the arm rest to watch Jensen take a long swig of his beer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a sip of his own Heineken, its taste thin and light. The cool liquid feels good as it slides down his parched throat, and he takes a longer pull.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was worried about you,” Jensen says after a while, probably after he figures Jared’s got enough beer in him, slanting his eyes toward Jared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jared doesn’t look at him. “Well that’s a stupid thing to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ass. Couldn’t exactly help it, could I? You’ve been acting weird all week. You took off out of nowhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jared sighs. He lifts his bottle up and tilts the bottle this way and that, watching the fizzy liquid bubble through green glass. “Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The word might as well be yanked out of him, but Jensen doesn’t say anything about it. Well, about that. He’s got plenty else to say, says ‘em in those soft, honeyed tones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything good, man?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s quiet in here. Too quiet. Jared taps his socked feet on the wood floor, beating out a frenetic rhythm. Jensen doesn’t say anything about it, doesn’t tell him to stop. He does still the foot nearest him with his own, pressing its socked bulk over the slope of Jared’s foot to bring it back down to earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know you’re gonna tell me eventually.” He slants a catlike grin toward Jared, and Jared laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It pulls him out of his funk just a little. Jensen has that effect on people. He’s just so likable. So easy to be around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I don’t have to make it easy,” Jared says, and it’s the first thing that’s sounded like a joke out of his mouth all day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen counts it as a win. A very small win, but a win nevertheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>* * *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jared honestly believes that’s the end of it. They finish their beers and have a couple more, saying their goodbyes by ten o’clock. Jared goes to bed feeling pretty good, a little lighter and cleaner than he’s felt in days. He wakes up feeling ready to tackle the rest of the shoot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, well. And then he starts crying on set. Again. Not manly, movie-star crying with a single, cinematic tear streaking down his cheeks either, but full-on heaving shouldered, snot-nosed sobs. Jared is having a Moment, and everyone around him looks increasingly alarmed. He can even feel the tension in Jensen, who’s lying bloody and motionless in his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fake blood, it’s only fake blood.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh god. Oh fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the director calls cut, he waves everyone off, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Fine. I’m fine.” He ekes the words out through shaking, shivering lungs. When he regains the power of speaking more than two words at a stretch, he says, “I’m good. No, really. Can we take five?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kim looks at him skeptically. “Take ten, and I’ll see you back here. I want to get a few more takes before we move on to the next set.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jared nods. “Perfect, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s about to heave himself to his feet, stumble off to his trailer to get out of the public eye for a second, when Jensen sticks his hand out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jared just stares at it, dumb. Jensen waits, eyebrows raised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen can out-wait him, Jared knows he can. He’s never been all that patient himself. It doesn’t take very long for Jared to sigh, to put his hand in Jensen’s and let him haul him to his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>* * *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the day passes in a kind of hellish daze. He hits his marks, says the lines, puts in a damn good performance, if he says so himself, because he is nothing if not a consummate professional.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels tired and worn by the end of the day, totally wrung out, and it’s only the third day of shooting. He has no fucking idea how he’s supposed to get through the rest of the week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembers to make his goodbyes this time. Tired as he is, as unsociable as he’s feeling, he remembers what Jensen said about worrying, and he doesn’t want a repeat performance. He’s aware, in that dim Hollywood way, of the reputation certain actors get for being divas, difficult to work with. He doesn’t want to be one of them. He’s just in serious need of some downtime alone, a little bit of R&amp;R before he can even begin to think about facing the next few days of all-day shooting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, wait a second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen catches him as he’s leaving, and Jared considers pretending he didn’t hear him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come back to my place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No, Jensen, that’s nice of you to offer, but I just really want to get some—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleep? C’mon, you slept enough yesterday to power a small town for days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t actually make any sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Made you smile, though, didn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that Jensen points it out, Jared can feel it, the smile tipping up the corners of his lips. It has a mind of its own, refuses to quit even when he wants it to. “Whatever. I’m. I’m actually really tired, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen chews on that. “You can stay over, get all the sleep you need, I promise. I’ll even drive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen shrugs. “I dunno, man. You seem… different. Off. Tired, whatever. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jared takes a deep breath. He doesn’t know why he’s agreeing to this, except, well, he is tired. And just having someone take care of him, having someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span> with him, it sounds really nice right about now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are all the reasons he shouldn’t. All the ways he doesn’t want to be a burden on anyone else, but he’s too tired to count them off. He doesn’t want to think so hard for once, and anyway, Jensen’s offering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>* * *</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen’s place is clean. Like, really clean. It’s not like it’s a surprise. Jared’s been here before. It just always strikes him as a little funny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stands in the entryway, a little stiffly because however many times he’s been here, it hasn’t been enough to get him over that intrinsic awkwardness of being in someone else’s space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen slaps him on the arm, having none of it. “What’re you doing? Have a seat, make yourself at home. You want something to drink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jared shakes his head. “No, I’m good. Maybe just some water or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen flips open a cabinet to grab a glass, and Jared makes good on the directive to make himself comfortable, taking a seat on Jensen’s long, plush couch. It’s a tasteful beige, studded with fabric-covered buttons all over the cushions. They dig into his back kind of weirdly. It doesn’t really strike him as Jensen’s style, but then, he assumes it came with the rental just like his furniture did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen joins him with a glass of ice water and a beer for himself. “Cheers,” he says, passing it over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cheers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jared drinks half the water down before setting it on the coffee table, on top of one of the coasters. He leans back. His eyes feel heavy, dragging steadily downward, but he probably couldn’t sleep if he tried. He feels restless and a little bit sad. Catching sight of Jensen’s hands wrapped around the brown glass of his beer bottle is still so much. He doesn’t know why it should be like this. It’s never felt this way before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jared swallows heavily and looks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks Jensen will ask him what’s the matter again, doesn’t know what he’ll do if Jensen does. He means well, with those soft doe-eyes and all his concern. Jared just doesn’t have any place to put it. He doesn’t even know what that means.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen doesn’t ask, and the tension in the air gets more and more uncomfortable. Jared shifts in his chair, fiddles with his water glass. Jensen looks perfectly comfortable beside him, and Jared wonders how he can stand it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s the one who breaks first. “Are you going to ask me or what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s those raised eyebrows again, like he didn’t go through all the trouble of getting Jared here. “Ask you what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About the—” he gestures vaguely. “Crying. Whatever. You keep telling me I’m acting weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you… want me to ask about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Yes. Maybe—I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen laughs. “Super clear there, buddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jared makes a face. “Just, I don’t know. Ask, if you’re gonna.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen nods slowly. He still takes his time about it. “Is it just the work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It’s just the work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you lying to me?” Jensen says it charming, says it cocky—it’s a Dean-wheedling-Sam voice, and it makes Jared smile in spite of himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep.” He pops the p, finding a little bit of Sam’s little brother shit-giving attitude inside him after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen laughs a little, a small, companionable thing. “I don’t know, dude. I just—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worry, I know. I’m… sorry? I don’t mean to worry you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I know. Here.” Jensen sets his beer bottle down on the table and leans back. “Come here. I want to try something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mere.” Jensen leans back, cradled between the cushion and the arm of the cough, one leg bunched up against the couch back, arms open in an invitation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jared hesitates for a breath, mostly trying to work out if this is some kind of joke. Doesn’t seem like the kind of joke Jensen would make, really. Or at least not now, not tonight. Sincerity’s written all over him, so Jared takes another long sip of his water before shuffling his way over to Jensen’s side of the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lean back,” Jensen says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In for a penny. Jared does that too, turning and leaning back slow, a little weirded out, a lot hesitant to put all his weight on Jensen. It’s not like he’s a small dude. It’s not like this is super normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen’s arms come up around him, and it’s a shockingly normal gesture. Brotherly, like the way Dean might maneuver Sam if he was injured. Like the way Jared had held Jensen as he’d flopped lifelessly on a patch of Vancouver pavement. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen hauls him up by the armpits, pulling him closer so Jared’s back is flush against his chest. He feels way too big for this, like an overgrown baby. He opens his mouth to say so, gets as far as, “Dude, what’re you—?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Jensen hushes him. “Shh. It’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jared remains tense, unconvinced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. It’s okay. Really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really. This doesn’t strike you as kind of weird?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.” Another popped p for the collection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jensen doesn’t let go, and little by little Jared relaxes. Once he lets go of the tension, the nameless animal fear pounding through his limbs, it’s actually kind of nice. He can feel Jensen’s heartbeat behind him, the warmth of him soaking through their layers of clothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t let it get to you,” Jensen says after a while. “The job, the rest of it—you have to let it just be a job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s easy to say and harder to do. Some days it feels basically impossible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jared says. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t solve anything, but for a little while, it’s nice just to be held.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Say what's up on <a href="http://twitter.com/lovetincture">Twitter</a>, if you wanna.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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